


Whatever I Hope For, Wherever I Am

by raja815



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Comment Fic, F/M, Fade to Black, First Time, Foreign Language, Music, Romance, Shore Leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raja815/pseuds/raja815
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In fact, she hadn't intended to meet him at all, and if it hadn't been for the last-minute Sickbay shift swap that ended her plans to explore the planet's shopping districts with Christine, she likely never would have.  She'd have to thank them later.</p><p>Scotty/Uhura first time fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever I Hope For, Wherever I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a comment-fic prompt that wanted any TOS characters on shore leave. Good opportunity for some first-time fic, it seemed to me.

She hadn't intended to have dinner with him, hadn't intended to walk with him along the canals of faintly iridescent water that served as roadways here on Wakusei XI, and she certainly hadn't intended to find herself riding a lift with him up to a hotel room, for which they shared the only key. In fact, she hadn't intended to meet him at all, and if it hadn't been for the last-minute Sickbay shift swap that ended her plans to explore the planet's shopping districts with Christine, she likely never would have.

She'd have to thank them later.

"This'll be us," he said quietly, when the old-fashioned cable lift elevator chimed, announcing the eighth floor. He reached for her bag but hesitated a bit, as if he wasn't sure he should, and she got there first; her grip closed around the handle just as his fingers brushed against her knuckles. A spark of static jumped from his skin to hers, as if he'd been so long in the engine rooms over the past four and a half years that the dilithium energy had somehow saturated him, fused with him, made him something more than what he once was. A silly thought, she scolded herself, but it amused her, maybe because, silly as it was, it felt somehow right. 

"Apologies, Miss Uhura," he said, and a skittish smile quirked into the corner of his mouth, almost shy, as though he were a very young man out on a first date with his high-school sweetie rather than a seasoned starship officer. 

"Accepted, Mr. Scott," she replied, warm and just a little coy, and his smile widened to match her own. Funny somehow; she'd never before thought of him as a handsome man, not in the same way she'd seen other men as handsome, but of course, she'd never really allowed herself to look. But she was looking now, and there, in the lines of his face and the light of his smile, she could suddenly see so much. 

How strange to find it there, all unexpected, in a face she thought she'd known so well. 

He hummed quietly as they walked through the hotel's long, pale-blue corridors, the stone walls exhibiting the same faint luminescence as the water in the canals. It was the same song he'd sung earlier when they'd been walking together through the shopping bazaar; the song suggested by the open chord she'd absently strummed on a strange, stringed instrument they'd found for sale. The song that had really been the start of this... whatever this was, that had suddenly sparked to life between them. _Far am bi mi fhìn is ann a bhios mo dhòchas..._

Scots-Gaelic hadn't been one of her focus languages. She'd done a bit with Goidelic language basics, but not the Scottish dialect specifically, and its variations were such that she was only able to catch the vaguest gist. 

The he melody, though, she had known from the first phrase. She seldom forgot a word, but she didn't think she'd ever once forgotten a song. This one came back to her, joyous, bright, and lilting, from a long-ago school choir classroom, and she'd strummed it as best she could on the unfamiliar alien instrument, and his eyes had turned to meet hers and there had been that wide, bright smile, that delighted smile...

She hummed it along with him now, a higher counterpoint, a lovely blend, all the way to their room.

"A wonderful song," she said, unfastening her coat and laying it across her suitcase.

"Aye, lass," he said, and reached over to smooth the collar of her dress. There was no spark of static when his finger brushed her neck this time, but she felt almost as if there had been. "Passing fair." 

She felt his breath against her earlobe as he leaned closer to whisper-sing against the hollow of her cheek.

" _Siubhal air na cladaichean ‘s a’ coiseachd air a’ ghainmhich. Far am bi mi fhìn bidh mo dhòchas ann._ "

"I never even knew you spoke _Gàidhlig_ ," she murmured, reaching up to cover his hand with hers, pressing it more firmly against her skin. Warm hands, his, large and calloused and capable.

"Not much nowadays," he said, sliding his hand along her neck, following the tendon with his fingertips. "My grandmother spoke nothing but, proud Scotswoman that she was. During summers I spent with her, it was _Gàidhlig_ or no dinner, you ken. I've forgotten most but the songs now. The songs, they stick in my head."

"I'd like to learn," she said, and turned her mouth to press a soft kiss to the pulsepoint of his wrist. His breath caught and she tilted her head upwards to meet his gaze. When their eyes met the air between them seemed to vibrate, an electric pulse, the tuning strum on an open string, something both heard and felt. "What does it mean?"

He hesitated a moment, and not, she was sure, because he didn't remember.

" 'Walking the shore, walking the sand,' " he finally muttered, " 'whatever I hope for is wherever I am.' That's the Standard, or at least as close as I can make it." 

For a moment she could do nothing, only watch him and feel that strange vibration sharpen and tighten around them, pulling them close. She yielded to it, and kissed him. Soft. Full on the mouth, hot and sweet and lingering, as simple and as sweet as singing in one's native language. 

"Lovely, Mr. Scott," she said, reaching down to slide her hand beneath the red duty tunic that he had elected to wear, even on this rare opportunity for shore leave, sliding her hand upward until it rested on his chest, just over his heart and just under the engineering emblem. She kissed him again. "Teach me the rest."

"Aye, lass," he said, and wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her close. "If that's what you want of me, then that's just what I'll do."

"That's what I want," she said, and turned them towards the waiting bed. "Let's get started."

"Aye," he agreed. They went together, and began.

**Author's Note:**

> The song is "Far Am Bi Mi Fhin," sometimes translated as “Where I Will Be," or "The Drunken Piper." I heard it for the first time at a Scots Gaelic music event I attended a number of years ago, and the "translation“ I had Scotty give is a mix of the one I remember being given at the time and one I found on the internet later. Anyway, I think it's a fun song. Listen to Natalie MacMaster's performance of it [here.](http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=r-vHJd7_nuA&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dr-vHJd7_nuA)


End file.
